What Matters
by Thekuroshitsujilover
Summary: Robots don't cry anyways, they just break. NearMello NearxMello MelloxNear MelloNear drama, angst, short MattxMello MelloxMatt shounen ai rating either M/T


It's the usual morning – the boy woke up in solitude first hand with the velveteen curtains pulled wide open for the sunlight dew to peek in and finally reach the tips of his toes. Near hated the golden light which reminded him of Mello, and to be honest, the empty dawn is actually different from the habitual ones. Before he didn't speak – he didn't _think_, he didn't make use of the laid out logic and evidences that will stop him from being any more stupid.

He truthfully understood it now, however, clasping the reality with the protruding veins around his heart; crumpling the sheets and the familiar clothing that were too small for the blonde and too big for him.

He knew now, and he won't pretend to be alright and as cold anymore, he'll stop smiling at his white lies which still stayed trampled around his tongue just to say it again. Just once more so maybe he can fall again.

The young genius wondered if he can go back to being the mechanical creature he was, fueled by the acid and programmed by just the same words. Moving just the same calculated gestures and not giving in to the false warmth of the conceitedness darkness which craved for his clipped wings.

_"Robots don't cry anyways, they just break."_

Near wondered if he can take it all in and walk straight without any emotion ghosting his face like how he used to be; like how he used to always talk the same way to the made-up dolls that never showed sympathy for such a weak, isolated human. No – he can never be the same way. The fragments of himself he thought to be just similar to puzzle pieces constantly changed its shape to never fit again as a whole.

It also hurt how Mello's scent suited his best more than Near's minty fragrance.

Perhaps he finally had enough. Though Near thought how someone as extravagant and impulsive like Mello will fit in to his figurative world of legos and towers . . . those questions were left unanswered, unfortunately until he breathed the last of his existence – it will never be satisfied.

He's exhausted; a single tear rolling down like a frozen crystal down his pale cheeks. Funny that it didn't sound so metaphorical, rather it seems that it did mean something more than priceless gems.

For the first time, someone smiled as he welcomed the death that dawned onto him from his heart to his wrists, and confused Near further which bled the most pools of red.

It was because he realized that probably – _just probably –_ he wasn't a metal robot at all to begin with.

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><p>Mello grew numb of the guilt; the conscience stopped bugging him and in fact it slowly scared him. It scared him because the faith lost its essence. He didn't find any fault to spending time with Matt in more meanings than one which dragged his divine beliefs closer to a façade than a will.<p>

"You're going already?" A rough, familiar voice asked with hesitation. "Are you going back to him?"

"Yeah."

"It's been a year and surely, he knows about us already. It won't make any difference to stay longer, since you don't have to act like nothing's going on too anyway." Slender arms wrapped affectionately around his torso to hold him back – to possibly lock him away and make Mello surrender himself to him. But he knew Mello can't do that; he'll never submit to anyone above him, or just a step below him either.

"Matt, let go." Mello gripped the ropes around him and escaped from the brunette. He wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes, removed the foil from his bar and savored a bite from it. Without any further say, the older male left and purged into the solemn streets of old London. Alone, - but the teen gamer didn't waver.

_Why?_ Matt knew his temperamental lover cannot retrieve his soul from the hell on this Earth even if he's on St. Peter's list, and it made him genuinely smile.

* * *

><p>Chocolate half-eaten, gas almost out and lamplights barely lit. It was the sight that reminded Mello of his midnight affair, and the moment he steps into that room – it will be the same coldness, the feigning ignorance from his lover – enemy – who waited for him ironically.<p>

He shrugged, preparing himself from any commencement Near would throw at him. Just then he remembered that he was the one who argued all the time, who found mistake from the littlest things, and the albino twit didn't care and played toys for heaven's sake, which always infuriated the bittersweet addict.

But it was not the usual night, it will not be the same.

He sensed the loose ties of Near's entirety sprawled all over the place, reaching out to him.

Mello ran up the run-down stairs of the tiny apartment Near lived in to be with the slim blonde, the wind whispering evils to him and his skin tightening around his beating system.

_slam._

"Near? I'm home." The echoes answered him back with perpetual silence. The moonlight lurked inside the dim space, and at the very corner, a body white as snow rested peacefully.

"…_Near?_" He ran to the limp figure and pulled him close while averting his eyes from the lifeless face which he knew so well.

Even at the peak of his death; at the edge of sadness, Mello just can't say he _loved_ him so well.

"Shit, _God_… " The blonde fringes shadowed the cerulean eyes that shined with lingering emotions. The feeling of Near not moving at all – the fact that he was now just as beautiful as those porcelain dolls in the store sent shivers on Mello's spine.

Red. Black. It matched Near's plain theme. Just like how he was – like a clear canvas waiting for color to paint and fill it with life.

That's all he wanted, wasn't it?

"Near…hey…wake up…"

How selfish can man be? Even if Mello knew its definite extent, no matter how immoral it appears to be – Near forgave him. Mello was certain he knew more about being humane more than the introverted detective, and that he is more reasonable just because he has a reason that Near will never comprehend.

And here he is, embracing nothing.

Nothing, since the painting cleared its own and returned to the past without a footstep.

* * *

><p><em>'Mello, sometimes, what you think appears to be real. So, if you think I'm . . . . a monster, then let it be. But you cannot forget that more people think you are one. And that makes you one in this insane world.'<em>

* * *

><p>Mello inhaled the fresh, winter scent of the soft, pristine curls, wishing he lived breathing it only, and as it leaves, his spirit may follow as well. "Nate River. . ." Just one, last fleeting kiss.<p>

In this imagery – fantasy, hopes or even the worst nightmare – Near was human and Mello wasn't. Near loved and Mello _didn't._

Yes, that's right. He didn't cry.

* * *

><p><strong>AN idk I missed this pairing so much and I just thought of this and there you go.**

**I don't' know what to think about this. Good? Bad? What-the-hell-it-doesn't-make-sense?Review! ****J**


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